


Her Still, Small Voice

by Mira_Jade



Series: A New Song [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (at the very least he and Obi-Wan snark and drink lots of tea), - in the form of Mara post-Palpatine, . . . because it really is, . . . kinda, Alternate Universe - Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Caleb Dume is on the path to becoming Space Dad no matter the 'verse, Classy Space Uncle Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul Redemption, Gen, Have I mentioned that this is an AU?, Kidnapping, Mama Bear Padmé Amidala, Multi, Number One Dad Anakin Skywalker, Past Child Abuse, Wee Jedi Tots Luke & Leia Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_Jade/pseuds/Mira_Jade
Summary: The war may be over, but casualties from its violence still remain. In another time, another place, Anakin Skywalker meets Mara Jade for the first time.





	Her Still, Small Voice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers! For those of you who are familiar with this 'verse, I welcome you back! For any newcomers, this is, in short, a series of stories that explore what could have happened if Anakin was not quite as dumb and Sithy, and thus circumventing the events of Ep. III onwards. From a certain point of view, of course. It is not necessary to read _"An Old Song, Re-Sung"_ , before this, but doing so would definitely pave the way to full understanding.
> 
> That said, I thank you all for reading, and hope that you enjoy!

It amazed Anakin Skywalker how things could change, yet remain so fundamentally the same.  
  
The new Jedi Temple on Ossus – well, the reclaimed _old_ Jedi Temple on Ossus – felt much as the Temple on Coruscant ever had to his senses. It thrived as a wellspring for the light side of the Force; shimmering with the collective consciousness of thousands of Jedi, all compounded and compressed over hundreds of generations. In some ways, the cauldron of peace and serenity ran even deeper here, surrounded as they were by the verdant and the _living,_ rather than the artificial mass of Coruscant's urban landscape. Anakin looked out of the wide transparasteel windows to see the thick, vibrant treetops of the native jungle surrounding them. There was nothing inorganic about Ossus in the slightest; instead, the living Force rejoiced over the cycle of nature and the devoted attention of so many of its children in one place, over the passing of so much time. Even those who still clung to the old ways and frowned at the new structure of the Jedi Order appreciated the wisdom behind their relocation to Ossus.  
  
Simply put: Anakin felt as if he could _breathe_  here, and many of his fellow Jedi felt the same. With the shadow of the Sith at last lifted to reveal the Dark Lord behind the recent-most of the galaxy's woes, there was a new brightness to the Force left behind to fill its place. Without the blinders that had so long obstructed their vision, they learned to see the Force anew; after so many years of war and uncertainty they were slowly relearning how to be _Jedi_ , and exist with the Force in harmony again. It was a rewarding, illuminating journey of self, and if Anakin felt as much, he knew that other, more spiritually minded Jedi had to feel the same.  
  
Currently, rain fell over the jungle beyond. He could feel the wet, rich pulse of renewing life like a warm embrace, even from underneath the shelter of the main Temple structure. With the weather keeping them inside that afternoon, he sat in the youngling crèche and spun a circle of glowing orbs before his twin children. At just shy of three years of age, they could do little more with the Force than manipulate the orbs he already set in motion – altering their paths without controlling them outright. But even he was surprised when Luke grasped the idea behind the activity, and made one of the orbs dance in a corkscrewing motion, for just a moment. The orb changed colors, sparkling with blue and green before returning to its more familiar violet-gold, and Luke gasped in delight at his accomplishment. However, his giddy joy caused him to break his hold on the orb, and Anakin caught the sphere with his mind - but Luke was undeterred by his setback. He was eager to try again. Leia, never one to be outdone by her twin for long, was not far behind in her own determination to master the exercise, and Anakin fairly beamed – looking up at the other Jedi in the crèche and hoping to catch their eyes.  
  
“Did you see what Luke did?” Anakin asked, not for the first time that day. “Obi-Wan, did you see?”  
  
“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice was a patient, droll sound from where he was helping a pink skinned Zeltron girl master the same exercise. She, Anakin thought with no small amount of pride, was a full year older than his twins, yet telekenisis was a knack she was only just recently learning to master.  
  
But, looking at Luke, something in the girl's cobalt coloured eyes brightened in understanding, and she waved her hand -  
  
\- only to send her own orb dancing in a brilliant spiral of glittering light. “I did it too, Master Skywalker!” she grinned to catch his attention. “Did you see?”  
  
“I saw, Rhysa,” Anakin smiled at the Zeltron. “You are certainly growing with your powers.”  
  
The little girl fairly shimmered with pride, her confidence bolstered, and Obi-Wan huffed. “It's like I'm not even here,” he commented in a mock whisper. Anakin could feel the familiar sensation of a Force-push, playfully tapping at his side. “When did you become such a natural with children?”  
  
“I don't know,” Anakin deadpanned, with a sly look from the corner of his eyes. “Having two of my own may have helped, I suspect.”  
  
Obi-Wan raised a brow, but it was true. Before Luke and Leia, Anakin was not one to help in the crèche unless specifically asked to by the crèche masters – better did he prefer filling in as a sparing partner for the advanced saber classes. But, since being introduced to fatherhood, he spent more and more time with the youngest of their initiates. He was now a familiar face to the children, and he enjoyed working with them as they took their first, stumbling steps into a larger world.  
  
The collective presence of the younglings was refreshing, was the simple truth of the matter. They looked on the Force with wide, awe-struck eyes, unafraid and eagerly seeking whatever they could find. Sheltered by their upbringing, a great many of them had no concept of the Dark; the Force simply _was_ to them, and they existed within its current with true, innocent intentions.  
  
Even the background grief of the old ways - which, years ago, was the true reason Anakin shied from assisting in the crèche - where children mourned their parents and still longed for their homes was now, for the most part, missing. Children like Rhysa – like Luke and Leia – would never be far from their families for long. They would commute to and from home, for greater and greater periods of time as they grew. Rhysa's parents, Anakin knew, were even now staying in the compound that had been built for visiting family beyond the main Temple enclosure. She would be one of the first of a new generation of Jedi, with both her physical and spiritual family to turn to for guidance in the years to come.  
  
A great many still feared that they were setting themselves up for the Dark with such a practice, that they were dividing the loyalties of a future generation of Jedi Knights between the Order and their individual cultures. They believed that such an allowance taught the children selfishness and colored their sense of duty to both the Force and the Republic as a whole. But Anakin could not believe that _family_ , that truly living one's life, as the Living Force rejoiced in, could be a practice for ill. The Dark would find its way for as long as the light too existed; when the time came, and a student had to be guided down a better path, they would deal with that then. Living in fear and restricting the freedom of _all_ for the possibility of such an outcome for a few was unbalanced, and Anakin would argue that point with any who cared to hear him.  
  
But, in that moment, he simply took a deep breath and thanked the Force for the gift of being able to raise his own children in the ways of the Light. Luke and Leia were welcomed by the Order, rather than shunned for the . . . unorthodox path their parents had taken, and Anakin knew full well of his blessings. He understood how easily they could have slipped through his fingertips, had fate veered down even a slightly different path.  
  
(He knew, also, of another time, another place - where his side was empty of everything but the Dark, and his _anger torment pain_ ate at the galaxy like a sickness; like a plague. But that was not his here and now - and, if he had anything to say about his path, it never would be.)  
  
For the morbid turn of his thoughts, Anakin closed his eyes to better feel the bright presences of his children. They glowed to his immaterial vision like fledgling stars, and their light washed over the scarred places in his psyche where, once, the Dark had tried to take hold. With his physical senses, he listened to the childish laughter of the younglings and the countermelody offered by the flowing water from the twinkling fountains. He could feel the rain as the drizzle turned to a steady downpour; thunder rumbled in the hills beyond the Temple valley, while lightning charged and cleaned the air. Feeling as a tree with deep roots, he reached out to feel the hum of peace within the Temple, running deeper than the stone and steel to saturate the very ground of the planet beneath their feet, until -  
  
\- a note of unease cut through his preternatural awareness of his surroundings. Someone was frightened, he sensed - terrified, even - and the acidic, yellow emotion was a jolt in the Force. Fear simply did not exist on Ossus - not in such a raw, almost primitive state. He could all but taste it as a sour note on the back of his tongue. His eyes flew open, suddenly alert for the source of _denial fear pain_ and reflexively shielding his children from it.  
  
Anakin looked around, and frowned to see that he was the only one in the room on edge. The twins were still happily practicing – and Obi-Wan's attention was still fixed on Rhysa. They had not felt what he had felt.  
  
It was Rhysa who first understood that something was not right. Sensitive to the emotions of others, thanks to her Zeltron heritage, she frowned and looked up, her blue eyes wide. Only then did Obi-Wan too tilt his head, and glance at Anakin in concern.  
  
“Anakin, what is it?” he asked. Anakin could feel a pulse of question flutter across their bond, but he was unsure how to answer his former Master.  
  
Rhysa looked as if she was on the verge of crying, and Anakin spared the energy to push a soothing wave of comfort her way – which immediately roused the attention of the twins. Luke and Leia looked up, their eyes going equally wide, and Anakin placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders; he did not want to frighten them.  
  
After his moment of distraction, he tried to pinpoint the source of _denial fear pain_ again, but found that he could not. Not yet. “I don't know,” Anakin answered after a long pause. He saw Obi-Wan's brow furrow. “But I feel a disturbance. I think that someone is - ”  
  
It was then that he felt a familiar presence enter the room, and a clamor from the younglings interrupted him. He looked up as the children closest to the entryway happily rose to greet the Chalactan Master of the Order and her Padawan as they walked in. Depa Billaba was still an awe-inspiring figure amongst the initiates, and a rare face amongst the crèche. Her arrival caused quite the delighted stir – one that the children would be speaking about for days to come.  
  
Yet, Anakin was more interested in her Padawan – a young man named Caleb Dume, who was quickly growing ready to take the trials for the rank of Jedi Knight himself. However, the self-sure, almost cocky teenager was very much not so confident as he struggled to hold a tiny, toddling girl in his arms. He held a human child, about Luke and Leia's age, but who seemed younger for the way she tried to curl into the smallest shape possible, as if to hide herself from the view of all. Her uncomfortable squirming put Caleb ill at ease, and Anakin felt the sense of _denial fear pain_ deepen to a more animalistic note of _panic_. The child, though her face remained expressionless and she refused to utter a sound, was distressed - near to the point of terror. Feeling an echo of her pain, Anakin felt his heart drop.  
  
He was not the only one to feel her backlash of emotion, Anakin next understood. Obi-Wan frowned before sweeping a comforting hand over Rhysa's brow – hiding an encouraging brush of power in the touch. “Wait here with the twins, child, and see if you can show them what you've learned.”  
  
Rhysa looked pleased with the amount of trust placed in her, and Luke and Leia excitedly turned towards the older initiate, ready to master moving the glowing orbs of light before their father returned. Anakin looked them over one last time, and then rose to accompany Obi-Wan as they followed the new arrivals further back into the crèche. There were private healing rooms for the children here, adjacent to the main healing ward, and Anakin frowned at the implications of Master Billaba's choice.  
  
The small chamber was empty when they entered – the healer was not there yet. After a deeper probe, Anakin understood that he felt fear, and fear only from the child. She was in no physical pain; she felt a physical _hunger_ , yes, bone deep and gnawing - uncomfortably reminding Anakin of some of his own lean times growing up on Tatooine - but so familiar to the girl to almost be commonplace. Anakin felt a ripple of indignation travel up and down his spine, and had to make fists of his hands to extinguish the emotion.  
  
“Master Billaba,” Obi-Wan announced their presence as they followed. “It's a surprise to see you here on Ossus. I thought you to be in the Mav'morut sector.”  
  
Depa's eyes, Anakin saw, were tired as she looked back on her fellow council-member. “We were, Master Kenobi – and our mission there remains incomplete. We will rejoin the 408th when we're through here.”  
  
Anakin felt concern ripple, wondering what could take a Jedi general – overseeing one of the last active spots of the war – away from her battalion. Ahead of them, he saw a flicker of green as the child Caleb carried peeked a glance at them over the youth's shoulder, before she ducked away again. The girl all but shivered in the eyes of the Force.  
  
“Knight Skywalker,” Depa greeted next. Her tone was stiff and formal – uncomfortably reminding Anakin that not all in the Jedi Order approved of their new mandate . . . or of his continued presence in the Temple, at that. “It's good to see you, as well.”  
  
“Master Billaba,” Anakin inclined his head in a gesture of respect, even as he fought the urge to frown. “It's a pleasure, as always.”  
  
He ignored Obi-Wan's pointed look of _warning_. He wasn't here to start a squabble, he wanted to protest – instead, he was truly concerned about the girl. The past few years, he'd finally matured past his need to nettle and provoke . . . for the most part, that was.  
  
“And who do we have here?” Obi-Wan asked as Caleb tried to set the child down on the exam table. The lighting was still on low, and the very air around them was restful – peaceful, healing even. Yet the child appeared to sense none of it. She squirmed again, clearly unhappy, but her small fingers refused to let Caleb go. He sighed, frustrated, but valiantly tried to summon his calm when he met his Master's raised brow.  
  
The child's eyes _were_ green, Anakin was allowed to see when she found the courage to meet his gaze again - reminding him of the Ka'ak cats in Ossus' jungle. Her hair was matted and red – or, he suspected that it would be beneath the dirt and grime coating it. She had a pretty, freckled face, even as sallow and sunken as it was. No child should have to look as such, something deep within Anakin growled, not ever.  
  
“I do not know,” Depa finally answered, pursing her lips together. “She does not speak – though I believe she can. We do not know her name, but we can feel her presence in the Force. She is strong - very strong.”  
  
The girl did all but glow in the eyes of the Force – impressively so. Yet hers was not the untapped power of most children her age. Instead, the Force was built around her like a thorny hedge, scraping against her psyche and warily guarding against any who would try to touch her mind. Anakin briefly wondered if that was built to keep others out . . . or something else in. It was a queer thing for one so young to instinctively summon, and Anakin wondered at what path life had already lead her down. For such a mind to exist where, instead, the peace and naivety of childhood should have -  
  
\- but he was distracted from his thoughts when Caleb sighed, again, and tried to coax the girl into a more comfortable position. He was trying to help, Anakin knew, but -  
  
“ - Caleb,” Anakin finally sighed outright, “you look like you're wrestling a womp rat. Here.” He reached out to fix the youth's hold, and was greeted with a wave of almost offended frustration in the Force before Caleb corrected himself, and accepted the assistance.  
  
“She won't let anyone else hold her,” Caleb huffed to say. “Not even Master Billaba. And I don't know what to - ”  
  
“ - it's easy. Just like this,” Anakin tucked away a look of fondness to instruct the teenager. Masters of the Light they were, but there were so many Jedi to whom the simple-most act of holding a child was foreign. How the Force had to _laugh_ at them, at times.  
  
But something surprising happened as he reached to move the girls arms more securely around Caleb's neck. She held her arms out to him – _him_ , and the wild bird's wing beating of her sense in the Force seemed to calm, ever so slightly. She still did not speak, but she whimpered – and the sound went straight to Anakin's heart.  
  
“Oh, sweetling,” he breathed, and, when Caleb exhaled in clear relief, he took the child from the Padawan. The girl was a full stone lighter than his own children; he could feel the bones of her elbows and could see the sharp shapes of her wrists. There was none of the baby softness of her age remaining. She tucked her face into his tunic, and Anakin felt as she sighed. Her hair was matted with tangles as he passed a soothing hand over the back of her head.  
  
“What happened?” he asked, trying to keep the growl from his voice – not wanting to upset the girl any further. His anger was not for her. “What do you know about her?”  
  
A heartbeat passed, where Depa favored him with a slow, strange expression. But she pressed her mouth into a thin line and finally answered, “We found her on Orayaim.”  
  
Anakin felt his heart drop. _Orayaim_. Though Dutchess Satine's ideas of pacifism may have sounded revolutionary and moralistically sensible on Mandalore, in the heart of a territory fifteen-hundred systems wide, her stance had hurt her people further out on the edges of Mandalorian space – to the great loss of many. Those border worlds had been the first to fall to Separatist plunder, even before her death. Orayaim was one such world, Anakin knew for how closely Obi-Wan kept to the reports concerning his old friend, and all she had tried to build. Orayaim was a world, amongst many others, Satine had thought worth the cost, for refusing to budge from her principles.  
  
A red rice-like grain, rich in nutrients, grew on Orayaim – a valuable staple that was traded across the entirety of Mandalorian space. The planet was also known for its fantastic displays of lightning during the stormy seasons, Obi-Wan once related from his time passing through during his year guarding the dutchess. Recalling the pastoral scenes he had described, Anakin knew that the farming homesteads would have had only a few warriors who still wore armor - and those who did would have been ashamed of their heritage due to Satine's decrees. They would have been defenseless when the Separatists came in, looking to feed the flesh and blood members of their own army at the expense of those native to the planet.  
  
Anakin felt his mouth clench for the hollow, desolate look the child turned on him, and again wondered what she'd already seen in her time.  
  
“The few settlements on the planet are still in shambles; we do not know if her parents were of the original Mandalorian residents or the Separatist colonists who came to work the land when the original inhabitants were . . . forced out. She even,” Depa's voice lowered to say, “could belong to one of the . . . less savory sorts who have been making a hive of the planet since then.”  
  
He could feel the girl flinch; her eyelashes were wet as they blinked against the skin at the base of his neck she'd found to nestle into. She may have deferred speaking, but she was not deaf. He made a shushing noise, and held her closer.  
  
But anything further Depa could have said was halted when the healer arrived – an orange skinned Twi'lek male whom Anakin recognized as Aras Lak, one of Master Che's senior-most healers. Anakin approved of the choice, knowing that the girl would receive the best care possible under his watch. Even so . . . Aras was a healer of the mind, Anakin knew – and one of the Jedi's most gifted, at that. He had been the healer to work with Anakin after Palpatine's years of influence had finally been revealed, and Anakin deeply respected him for his skill. Depa must have sensed what he had sensed, and prepared accordingly.  
  
Aras gave a smile in greeting for seeing the child; even with the sharp points of his teeth, he managed to convey only warmth and invitation with the expression. Anakin could feel his presence in the Force like the warm glow of a hearth fire; his own edges, even, felt soothed by the healer's gentle power. The girl, Anakin noticed, still regarded the stranger with wary, mistrusting eyes. Her prickly depression in the Force darkened; he could feel her thorns. The yellow sense of her fear was touched with violet - as if she was preparing to defend herself, no matter her reserve.  
  
“Hello, little one,” the healer addressed the girl directly. Anakin could feel as he reached out to sooth, to nurture. The sensation made Anakin drowsy on his feet. “It's a pleasure to have you with us.”  
  
But the girl turned her head away; her small fingers anchored around Anakin's neck with a strength that should have been many years from her.  
  
Aras looked concerned for only a heartbeat as he turned his gaze to Master Billaba, and then to Obi-Wan. But he carefully tucked the expression away as he focused on the child again. “If we could have her sit, Anakin?” he waved a hand towards the exam table.  
  
“We tried that,” Caleb ruefully informed the healer. “Unless you want to force her, that's where she wants to be.”  
  
“As she wishes, so it will be,” Aras took the information in stride. “If _you_ would like to take a seat with her then, Anakin?”  
  
Anakin complied with the healer's wishes, and sat down, trying to push his own sense of _calm peace trust_ towards the girl. _He only wants to make sure that you're okay, and help if you are not_ , _sweetling,_ he spoke to where the child's mind seemingly reached out for his own. If the move was instinctual, he wanted to provide her what security he could. _Can you let him do that?_  
  
Aras started by running a scanner over her, checking her for physical harm. Eventually, he only reported what Anakin already suspected: dehydration and malnourishment. She was small for her age, and underdeveloped; painfully so.  
  
Yet, her mind . . .  
  
“If she will let me,” Aras started, “I next wish to see the scope of the damage done, so we may know how to help her.”  
  
Aras seemed to understand that Anakin could already reach her to some degree, and for him to say outright what Anakin himself had began to fear . . . _damage done_. But by who, and for what? And why, against a child so tenderly young?  
  
But those questions were doing nothing for his own sense of balance. Instead of dwelling on them, he reached out to the girl again. _He's just going to touch your mind, just like I am doing. He will not hurt you; I will not let anything happen to you._ Anakin was surprised by how easily the promise came . . . and even more surprised by how the girl seemed to sag against him, as if willing to let him take on the burden of her fight. Her pretty green eyes were half hidden behind heavy lids; he could feel her exhaustion in the Force.  
  
The healer had a warm, soothing presence, and he reached out to the child's mind with all of the gentleness of a sunrise touching a night-dark land. Even Anakin was lulled by the secondhand sensation, and he rocked the child back and forth, humming in the back of his throat as he would when the twins were unable to sleep during the night. So rich was the sensation of _peace warmth security_ that he was unprepared for when the haze around the child's mind darkened from a warning violet to a deep, tar-black shade of pitch, and the thorny hedge around her consciousness all but _screamed_ in retaliation. The vine like barriers protested, rising up from deep onyx seeds and Aras was violently – and firmly – thrust from the child's mind.  
  
The Twi'lek stumbled back a physical step before catching himself. He held a hand up to his brow, clearly disoriented. Anakin could feel his wounded consciousness throb in the Force, and the girl in his arms was suddenly, painfully awake and on guard again. If she were any other child, Anakin suspected that she might have cried. Instead, she merely turned wide, panicked eyes on him. Her tiny arms tightened around his neck in a choke-hold.  
  
“What was that?” Obi-Wan was the one to ask the obvious as Aras collected himself. Anakin was grateful for his doing so - he himself could not take the breath from where he was trying to sooth the girl in his arms. He made shushing noises as he ran a comforting hand over her quivering little body, even as he tried to blanket all that was roused to defend in her mind with what he could of his own presence. There was no danger here, he tried to convince her, but his efforts were slow - laboriously so. He was not sure how much she was willing to trust and understand.  
  
“I . . . do not know,” Aras started slowly. He sounded winded, and out of breath. “I have not felt its like before. Not since . . .” and he made eye contact with Anakin for just a moment before setting his jaw and turning towards the two masters of the order again.  
  
_Black seeds_ , Anakin knew he was thinking . . . scouring vines studded with long thorns . . . all planted over time and cultivated by a careful, diligent hand. But where Anakin had grown with the subtle manipulations of a Sith Lord for years without realizing it, this girl . . .  
  
“It couldn't be,” his words sounded dubious to his own ears, but he _was_ troubled. If this was as Aras was suggesting . . .  
  
“But she's so young,” Obi-Wan echoed Anakin to add. “And we do not yet know where . . .” but his voice tapered of as he made eye contact with Anakin. Though their hunt for Palpatine had yet revealed nothing more than smoke and mist, neither had they found conclusive evidence of his death. The Sith Lord could be anywhere; who was to say where he was not?  
  
But what, then, would the likes of Palpatine want with this particular child? And why leave her for them to find? It did not make sense; they were simply jumping at shadows . . . again.  
  
Anakin clenched his jaw, and had to bite back his own frustration. It had no place in the here and now, especially not when he was still trying to get the shivering little girl to calm. Her small palms were sweaty about his neck; he could hear the quick sound of her breath from her mouth.  
  
“It is similar, but not exact,” Aras carefully concluded, addressing the rancor in the room outright. “This is much more . . . invasive than what was done to Knight Skywalker.”  
  
“Could it be something she has unconsciously done to herself?” Obi-Wan asked - the next logical answer to their riddle. “Would she be capable of building this to protect herself from . . . whatever it is she has lived through, or seen?”  
  
“Perhaps,” Aras finally admitted. “She has a raw, natural talent, but to build such _dark_ barriers with such precision . . .” he sighed, and ran a hand back over his brow. His lekku twitched in displeasure; the tips flushed a dark sienna brown. “I will need to meet with her further, to discover the extent of the damage and reach a more definitive conclusion. But I cannot do that until the child herself is taken care of, and settled. Perhaps then, she may allow me to search further.”  
  
More would not be done that day, Anakin was grateful to understand – the poor child still clung to him, her small heart hammering and her fear a sour taste on the back of his tongue. She was slowly calming, but only just barely.  
  
“She's filthy, and she needs a change of clothes. Leia's things from last season should fit her,” Anakin finally decided after a moment's deliberation. “She seems to trust me so far. Would you mind if I tried - ”  
  
“ - no, please,” Aras inclined his head. “We will prepare a room for her in the meantime; you may bring her back to the crèche when she's ready.”  
  
Caleb, he noticed, looked relieved; Depa's look was steeped in pity. The cool expression she ever reserved for him softened in that moment, and she inclined her head in a respectful gesture. “I thank you, Knight Skywalker. She seems to have taken to you.”  
  
Anakin could only nod in acknowledgement - with his mind already spinning onwards to solve the puzzle that had been so unexpectedly dropped on their lap. _Those black little seeds_ , Anakin thought again as he stood and walked from the healing chamber with Obi-Wan following close behind him . . . there was something going on here – something that was much, much more than it first seemed.  
  
The twins were standing and waiting for him when he reappeared, their eyes wide and curious for the girl he carried in his arms. The child spared a disinterested glance for Luke and Leia before turning her face back into the space of skin between his neck and shoulder; she made a small, pitiful sound as she tried to hide herself away. Anakin ran an absent hand over the back of her head, down over her hair, and felt his jaw hook in a square line.  
  
“Who's that, Papa?” Leia asked.  
  
“A girl, who needs our help,” Anakin replied, the only way he knew how.  
  
Leia accepted his response easily enough, while Luke tried to stand on the very tips of his toes to better see the girl he held. “What's her name?” Luke asked, his blue eyes bright.  
  
Anakin looked down, wondering if he would be able to feel the answer from the child's mind - but the girl simply buried herself further into his hold, and refused to look up again.  
  
Alright, that was fine. She was safe now, and they had all the time to find out the answers they needed.  
  
“Red,” he told his son on an impulse. “We're going to call her Red for now.”


End file.
